


Loptr

by Alle1313



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Divergence - Thor (2011), Eventual Romance, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jane Foster & Darcy Lewis Friendship, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Laufey didn't abandon Loki like Odin said, Loki (Marvel)-centric, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Scientist Wrangler Darcy Lewis, odin lying what a surprise, tasertricks is gonna be so chaotic once they admit their feelings i love it, yeah i just realized how to do my own tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:46:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28590492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alle1313/pseuds/Alle1313
Summary: The Jotnar are a pack tribe. Unlike popular belief, they do have hearts and care about each other deeply, even if the rest of the realms are blind to it. That's why Odin was shocked when a campaign came to Asgard to retrieve their youngest prince. In a desperate attempt to keep Loki safe, the rulers of the Realm Eternal send him to Midgard, a peaceful world where he would be far away from the battle until the second war against the Jotnar comes to an end.But the Frost Giants have a mantra, and they take it by heart: no one forgotten, no one left behind. They will not cease in their attempts until they get Loptr back.(Cross-posted on wattpad under the same username)
Relationships: Darcy Lewis & Loki, Darcy Lewis/Loki, Jane Foster & Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster & Darcy Lewis & Erik Selvig, Jane Foster & Loki, Jane Foster/Thor, Loki & Erik Selvig
Comments: 69
Kudos: 118





	1. Memories drowned in chocolate milk

**Author's Note:**

> Memories hurt, memories make him doubt. It's better to drown them before they drown you, and what could ever be better than chocolate milk to do so?
> 
> Oh, and the unusual kindness of one bratty cat may also help.

_CHAPTER ONE_

_Memories drowned in chocolate milk_

_Shouts and panicked screams make him snap out of his slumber. The night is still young, or so he guesses by the dark sky and small spots of light that he can see through the window. As an equally confused and worried frown makes its way onto his face he props up on one elbow, too tired to stand up yet._

_Suddenly his door slams open, and he recoils on the mattress while a figure rushes towards him. His back hits the wall, and he whimpers when the intruder reaches the foot of his bed._

_“Shh, it's just me, Loki. Just me, darling.”_

_Loki recognizes that voice. He tilts his head, fingers unclenching their tight grip on the blanket as a wave of relief washes over him. “Mother?”_

_Frigga smiles, even though her son can't see it through the utter darkness of the room. “Indeed,” she says, and gestures him to get closer. “Come here, sweetheart.” Loki immediately obeys and crawls his way towards her, who instantly picks him up and rushes out of the chambers._

_The queen runs through the corridors, summoning a small witchlight to be able to see the path she's following._

_Loki stares at her grave expression for several seconds, concern and fear creeping once again within him and he hides his face on her shoulder, tightening his grip on her nightgown as the screams come closer (or maybe they are just louder). Frigga notices his discomfort and holds him tighter, whispering words of reassurance and running one hand soothingly through his dark curls, still messy from sleeping._

_The Allmother keeps running, turning around corners swiftly and eventually, they exit the palace. There, a servant awaits them holding Sleipnir, Odin's horse and the fastest of all, by the reins. After exchanging a few words of gratitude with the servant, Frigga mounts Sleipnir, sets Loki on her lap and makes the eight-legged stallion gallop with a speed that the prince has never seen him use before._

_Soon Sleipnir gets them out of the capital, and as the Rainbow Bridge and the Observatory come into view, Loki turns his head around to look at his mother. Her eyes are set straight ahead, jaw clenched and brows knitted in what could be a mix of anger, sadness and determination. Loki swallows. “Mother?”_

_Frigga nods, never averting her eyes from the Gatekeeper's temple. “Yes, darling?”_

_“What's happening? Where are we going?”_

_The queen's lips get pursed into a thin line. While she seems to think of the best way to answer, Loki's eyes wander over her shoulder._

_A group of Jotnar, big and blue and obviously enraged are following them, some by foot and others on the back of cow-sized beasts with black eyes and scales white as snow, and fangs of the size of his whole head. The ruby red eyes of one of the Jotnar, the one that it's leading the pack, meet with his, feral and angry to their core._

_Loki shouts—_

—and he jolts up on the bed, throwing the covers away and waking up the cat in the process. The furry creature meows in discomfort and shifts its position beside his legs, leaning further away from him. Petting the small feline absentmindedly as an apology, Loki swallows the lump on his throat and tries to slow down his ragged breathing. 

It was just a dream, just a memory from a long time ago.

Loki sighs. He knows he won't be able to sleep anymore that night, and considering that the sky is already starting to turn a deep shade of blue, it would be over soon anyway. So giving a last scratch behind Rune's ears, the trickster dangles his legs over the edge of the bed and makes his way out of the room and towards the kitchen. He feels the cat tailing behind him, rubbing herself against the wall and sometimes against his own legs, and he smiles. 

Once they both arrive to the kitchen Loki walks over to the cupboard, of which its doors open with a squeaky rustling, and he pulls out a small pot full of chocolate powder and a bag of cat food. First he serves Rune her breakfast and throws the empty bag in the bin (his mother did teach him that ladies go first, after all), and then he gets a mug and a spoon. After he puts a spoonful or so in the cup, Loki goes to the fridge to retrieve a milk carton. Just when he was about to pour the milk, the cat meows.

“What's wrong, Rune?” he asks softly, putting the carton on the counter and crouching down beside the small animal. The cat meows desperately once again. She seems angry. Knowing her, that can only mean one thing. Loki scoffs and looks at Rune's empty bowl of food, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in disbelief. “You are still hungry? I just served you your food!” Rune meows angrily again. Loki groans. “Fine! It seems like you are going to become as voluminous as Volstagg, you glutton.” 

He stands up and searches through the cupboard once again. Sugar, salt, honey, leaven, various storage jars... But no sign of any other bag of cat food. 

Loki turns around and gives Rune an apologetic look. “There's nothing for you left here. You ate it all.” She meows. Loki rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “No, I will not go out now to get you more food, what I gave you is enough for a tiny beast such as yourself.” Rune meows again, angrier this time. “I said no and that is final, you ungrateful feline.” The cat hisses, her back's fur standing up and body arching menacingly. The Asgardian Prince lifts his hands in surrender and huffs in annoyance at his housemate's antics. “Alright, alright!”

Loki storms out of the kitchen and, with a flick of his wrist and a shimmer of green light, his pyjamas get replaced by a pair of high-waisted black pants and sneakers, a dark grey hoodie and a long, olive-green coat along with a patterned black and white scarf. He usually prefers to wear more formal clothing, but a more confortable garment looks more appealing to go to the nearby gas station to buy food for a snotty Midgardian animal.

“Gods of Valhalla, give me strenght.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The strip lights are flickering as always. Although the floor and shelves are clean, the place smells like dust and gasoline and smoke all at once, and if one were to pay more attention, the slightest hint of coffee was also stuck in the air. Not surprised by the pestilence anymore, he just chooses to breath through his mouth in order to avoid it. 

Standing one place ahead of him on the waiting line there's a woman, still young but around a decade older than him in human standards— she most probably is in, as Midgardians would say, her early thirties. A dense curtain of curls falls past her shoulders to the middle of her back, honey-coloured and shining golden under the bright lights of the store's lamps. The picture of an older woman with the same hair and tanned skin comes to his mind. 

Loki purses his lips and brushes the image off, but it's difficult considering the also golden haired toddler who is holding her hand. _Great_ , he thinks mournfully while a wave of past moments come to him in flashes.

Quiet summer afternoons on the royal gardens, countless hours running and climbing trees alongside an overly energetic blond boy, trying to keep up with him with a grin that tried to hide his tiredness.

_«Thor, wait for me!»_

_«Your enemy will never wait, Lo!»_

Mother, ever so patiently chiding her eldest and reminding him that they were brothers, and brothers should never be enemies, not even in jest.

Loki also remembers all those times he and Thor had snuck under the table of the dining hall, crawling until they reached their father's place at the head of the table so they could listen with rapt attention to the magnificent tales of mighty old battles, thinking themselves so perfectly hidden under the tablecloth, unaware of Odin hearing their poorly stifled giggles.

His family. 

Six hundred and fifty years since he last saw them. Six centuries and a half since the Frost Giants had declared another war to Asgard, seemingly recovered from the last one and with a lust for revenge that had only grown bigger as years passed by. On their first attack, his mother had explained to him the day they had sent him here, the Jotnar had threatened to being harm to the two princes. Thor had almost finished his training and was already capable of defending himself if the situation came up, but Loki had only began to train in the art of combat a few decades ago. Fearing their youngest would be an easy target, the rulers of the Realm Eternal had decided to send Loki to Midgard, a peaceful world where he would be safe from the Jotnar until the second war came to an end. 

Well, _peaceful_ was a strong word to define it. Throughout all the years he's spent here, Loki has seen and heard of multiple wars between countries of the same realm or even within the very same land, an unnatural event that he had never considered possible back on Asgard.

Asgard. The Realm Eternal, homeland of the gods, pinnacle of glory and a mere fairytale according to the ones who invented myths and stories about this mystical place thousands of years ago. His real home.

Sometimes, like for example right now in this moment, Loki allows the doubt to fill him. Asgard, Thor, the Allfather, his mother. What if he is imagining it all? Maybe he's always been an orphan, an ever wandering child who created that family he so much longed for in his head, basing it off the old myths told by some who are still interested in them. As much as he loathes to admit it, it would make sense: he only ever saw them when he was asleep and his imagination ran wildly, and it's been long since Loki last dreamt about his supposed family. Their faces became blurry to his memory a couple of centuries ago, their voices a distant melody he cannot quite identify.

The child starts to cry, and Loki shakes his head to shove that train of thought away as the young mother tries to shush her son. No, he's just being paranoid. Of course Asgard is not a fantasy, of course his brother and his parents are very much real, just as he himself is real. He's Loki Odinson, second prince on the line of sucesion, God of Mischief and Chaos and Stories and Lies. The Trickster. That's who he is, that's the one and only truth. It has to be.

But still, a spark of doubt keeps shining slightly on his heart.

The young woman picks up her child and gives the cashier an apologetical look when her turn finally arrives, who brushes it off with an understanding smile before charging her the packaged pastries she means to buy. After paying the corresponding amount of money, the lady grabs her purchase and with it on one hand and her toddler on the other arm, she makes her way towards the exit.

As his mother carries him out of the nearly empty store, the kid fixes his stubborn gaze over her shoulder, staring teary-eyed at nothing in particular as his sobs start subsiding. Loki snorts. He can relate to be obsessed over something you want deeply, and have someone deny it. Memories of sitting under a tree, with a large book resting wide open on his lap as he read, trying to memorize every word of an enthralling (and dangerous) spell and then Frigga Allmother snatching the book away and scolding him flood into his mind. This is a similar situation, and Loki feels sympathy for the child. Well, alright, he wanted to learn a forbidden spell and the tiny human wants a candy bar, but those are small, meaningless details. Plus, with his big blue eyes, golden hair and chubby cheeks the boy resembles Thor on his younger years, and despite himself, the prince feels a pang of affection for the small mortal child who looks very much like his older brother.

So after making sure no one's looking, Loki wiggles his fingers and, with a green shimmer, a white chocolate almond-flavoured candy bar appears on his hand. Another wiggle of fingers and the wrapped trinket disappears and materealizes on the kid's little fist, who stares at it with wide eyes before looking at him, shock and awe clear as water on his face. Smirking, Loki brings a finger up to his lips and winks at him. The child nods solemnly, and after winking back he discretly hides the gift on his pocket so his mother will not see it.

 _Good boy,_ Loki muses as both mother and son exit the small gas station to probably drive towards childcare and work after acquiring their breakfast.

“Next,” the checkout lady calls and the prince steps forward, stopping his thoughts before they could wander any further and putting the big bag of cat food on the conveyor belt. “Good morning,” she says in a clearly automated way as she checks the price of the object, not looking up from her task. 

“Good morning,” he replies. The cashier then does glance up, staring at him with wide almond eyes for a second before composing herself and returning to her assignment.

Loki smirks. He's well aware that his accent, still strong despite how many centuries had passed since he last set a foot on Asgard's streets, usually intrigues or even appeals people. 

After paying for Rune's food, he gives his farewells and gets out of the establishment, walking his way home enjoying the beautiful orange and pink lights of the morning sky.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

This, she thinks, is nice.

She's laying on the sofa, sprawled over the second-hand, beige cushions and not caring at all about the rest of the world. That human has finally left the house after a full week of being indoors, and the apartment is finally hers and only hers. It's not that she doesn't like her human, it's just that a cat needs her own space sometimes, ya know?

She revels in the wind that started blowing a few minutes ago, in its whistling sound and the rustle it makes against the windows and the facade of the house. The fact that she's here, warm and comfy on her spot while everyone else is probably cold and adjusting their coats outside makes her feel good in a cruel way, and she loves it. 

She shifts her position on the couch, making a soft sound of pleasure as she lays on her side, curling herself into a small, furry ball. If she had lips, she would be smiling right now.

She could get used to this peace.

“I'm home.”

She jumps in surprise and hisses at the sudden voice. Then she climbs the back of the sofa and relaxes when she sees the familiar figure that has stepped out of the shadows. Again. She meows and arches her back at him when he passes by the couch to pass the living room and get into the kitchen to show him her upmost anger. He really needs to stop doing that if he doesn't want her to have a heart attack.

Loki chuckles. “I apologize, Rune. It was not my intention to frighten you.”

Rune makes another noise of protest, but follows him into the kitchen once she visualizes the bag he's carrying on his arms. Her human summons one of those pointy and sharp objects that he loves so much and opens her precious food supply, pouring some of it onto her bowl and she immediately runs to sink her teeth into it.

She barely notices when Loki puts some milk on the glass he had preparated earlier and stirs it with a spoon to mix the chocolate powder, or when he sighs and sits cross-legged by her side. But she does notice the suddenly melancholic aura that he gives off, and the almost sorrowful and slow way he starts petting her while she eats her well deserved food. 

So once she finishes her ration, she walks over to him and makes her way onto his lap, laying down and letting him caress her belly. It isn't long before she starts purring, and she opens her only eye to see him smiling down at her, saying something she doesn't understand.

“At least I do know you are real, huh?”

Rune does not know what that means, but it sounds happy, so she takes it as a win. 

Another victory to this old feline.

Nice.


	2. Rain, thunder and new possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who would've thought that a lazy afternoon of flipping through TV channels would end up giving him hope and a possibility to get back home? 
> 
> And yes, more flashbacks are ensued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that science is not my forte at all, so all the scientific stuff that I put on this it's straight up copied from wikipedia, and maybe there's something wrong or that doesn't make much sense.
> 
> I apologize in advance.

_CHAPTER TWO_

_Rain, thunder and new possibilities_

It's raining now.

The wind, heavy and relentless has dragged dark clouds from the south, and then the coward has left them to deal with the consequences of its acts.

It is four in the afternoon, and Loki is _bored_. Some quiz show is being broadcast on the TV, but he's barely paying it any attention as he polishes one of his daggers, a cloth in his hand and a bottle of rubbing alcohol sitting on his lap. Beside him on the couch, Rune is taking her fifth nap of the day, sprawled on her back in a rather unnatural position that Loki is sure cannot be confortable.

As the minutes go ticking by, his boredom only grows. With a frustrated sigh he vanishes the dagger and places the rag and the alcohol on the sofa table. It was a pointless task after all. It's been decades since he's been on a real battle, his knives are always clean. 

_“... So you are now a question away from winning a million dollars! How do you feel, Ellen?”_

_“Just so blessed to be here, John! Just to be able to participate makes me happy!”_

Loki rolls his eyes at the staged answer and grabs the TV remote. He really isn't in the mood for that kind of stuff right now, so the Asgardian starts flipping through the channels, stopping at something once in a while but not convinced with anything. 

Rune meows. Loki huffs while changing to another different network, not bothering to turn his head to look at her. “No, I am most certainly not going for a walk right now. Have you not looked out of the window in the last hour?” The cat makes some kind of sleepy noise of displeasure, and Loki lifts his eyebrows in bewilderment. “Well, _I do_ care that it's raining. I'm sorry, the house will not be yours again in a while.” 

Rune scoots further away from him in protest. Loki smirks and switches once again to a different channel.

_“And before us rise the beautiful sights of the Antartica, the frozen continent, an icy–”_

Instant switch. He has no need to be reminded of anything else for today.

A loud, angry sound rumbles across the sky in a painfully familiar way and Loki looks up at the ceiling with narrowed eyes, as if he could glare at his brother while doing so, annoyance clearly written on his face as he raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the older prince's expense. “Are you for real?” 

Another thunder.

He swears he heard Rune begin to pur.

Loki frowns at her and, making a show of snapping his fingers, the cat gets teleported to his pocket dimension. Then he flicks his wrist and she reappears on one of the kitchen's chairs, looking every inch of shocked and confused as he's amused.

He would gloat about this small victory for a while, but the memories triggered by the budding storm start blooming in his head with delayed effect, swallowing him completely and making the world around him disappear.

_«The marble floor feels smooth and cold on his bare feet, and it's kind of nice, a small reminder that he really is awake._

_Loki clutches the pillow tightly against his chest. He isn't afraid of the darkness or the eerie shadows the moonlight casts on the walls, he totally isn't, and most definetely, he isn't scared of the shapes his sleepy brain wants him to see hidden in the dark._

_A sudden croaking makes the young prince shudder, and once he takes a look at the window he mentally slaps his own cheek for what seems like the hundreth time that night. «It was just a nightmare», he scolds himself, «and that is a mere crow». But still, Loki can practically hear the gigantic wolf's growls behind him, lurking in the dark with the intention to grab a nocturnal princely snack. In his tired state, not really able to tell reality and his imagination apart, Loki hopes that the beast gets poisoned._

_His heart hammers rapidly inside his chest, its quick beating pounding loudly on his ears. He cannot do anything to stop it even if he tries, and oh, doesn't that make him feel impotent._

_A loud thunder echoes through the sky, making him remember the reason why he got out if his chambers in the first place._

_Thor. Right. Because nothing could happen if his big brother is beside him. It is a proven fact; whenever Thor's around, the nightmares and bad thoughts go away. The wolf will surely do the same. Probably._

_However, when he arrives to Thor's door and his small fist is about to knock on it, Loki hesitates._

_His brother's had a bad day, that much had been clear from the moment he had stormed into the dining hall, covered in sludge and with a deep frown plastered onto his face. And in case that those weren't enough proofs, the loud storm that hasn't ceased since it started several hours ago would easily prove this point. It is well known on Asgard that when the thunder is rowdy and untamed, their eldest Prince is always involved._

_Maybe he should just head back to his room and let him rest—_

_The wolf's glowing yellow eyes come to his mind and Loki decides to risk his brother's ire. Because he's one hundred percent sure that Thor will be angry at him for disrupting his sleep, and even more so when he had explained his long, tiring day to him._

_Loki had seeked him out after dinner, finding him pouting and grumbling about his bad luck on his chambers. So the youngest, perceptive as he was had known that his brother needed someone to listen, even if his supidly huge pride didn't allow him to ask, and had sat down next to him silently until Thor's ailments couldn't be bottled for any longer._

_And so, Thor has told him everything: first he's had_ _his dull daily lessons, and then their mother had gotten mad at him because his tutor had told her he wasn't paying attention to the classes, so she had grounded him without letting him go out of the palace for an entire week (Loki had gasped in horror at this). Then Sif had almost killed him because he had commited the horrendous crime of saying she looked pretty that day, and after that he had fallen into a puddle of mud while he was running away from her. And finally, their father's horse, Sleipnir, had kicked him when he had gone to hide from the rabid warrioress with murderous intentions in the stables._

 _So, yeah. Thor had probably passed out the same instant in which he had touched his soft, comfortable bed, and would be enraged if Loki woke him up. But really, his_ _fear for the wolf is way bigger than his fear for Thor's rage, so he finally makes up his mind and knocks on the door. For all of the reasons above, the older prince doesn't even stir when he does so, nor when it cracks open, or when Loki peeks his head through the gap._

_Tiny barefoot feet stride quietly yet rapidly into the room, and soon they stop just in front of the blond's sheet-covered form._

_“Thor?” Loki calls with a soft voice. There is no response. “Brother?” Still nothing. With one hand he starts to shake his brother's shoulder gently, and another whispered plea falls from his lips.“Thor, wake up.”_

_The Crown Prince starts to snore like a bilgesnipe._

_The hand Loki is using to shake him increases the intensity of its movements. “Wake uuuuup.”_

_And so at last, Thor's eyelids flutter open and he jerks awake with a start, small sparks dancing around his fingers as he tries to steady his quick breathing. “What...?” he mumbles while searching for the cause of his awakening._

_Is it Sif? Has she actually gone so far as to go to his chambers in the middle of the night so she can finish her work?_

_Oh Gods of Valhalla, he's going to die._

_The sound of feet shuffling catch his attention and he immediately draws his gaze towards the point where it has come from. Narrowing his eyes he can distinguish a small figure standing by his bedside in the dark. A figure he would be able to recognize anywhere._

_“Loki?” he bewilderingly asks. The child nods. Thor groans and heavies a sigh of both relief and frustation all at once. “What are you doing here?”_

_Loki bites his lip and then, as if he were going to tell a secret, he whispers something that the eldest nearly misses. “There's a big wolf in the dark.”_

_Thor blinks. “What?”_

_“A wolf,” the younger prince repeates, still not making his voice any louder. “It was following me through the palace, it wants to eat me.”_

_“A wolf. Following you. Through the palace,” Thor echoes. Loki gives a nod, and the eldest rolls his eyes. “That is impossible, Loki.”_

_“No, it's not,” the child protests. “I saw it in my nightmare, and I know it's following me now.”_

_The boy rubs his eyes. “So you are telling me,”— yawn —“That you just woke me up because you believe the wolf from your nightmare is lurking in the dark.”_

_Loki hangs his head low and swallows, tightening his grip on the pillow he holds against his chest. “Yes,” he answers._

_Thor is nearly glowering._

_Of course his brother would come to wake him up in the most horrible day he's had in the whole century! Because his luck is just this good, isn't it?_

_Thor is about to scold Loki, to tell him to go away and let him rest, but then he notices how his little brother's body is shaking. His anger vanishes and is immediately replaced by concern as he turns the oil lamp that rests atop of his nightstand on. Now that_ _the room is dimly lightened, Thor is able to see Loki's face. There's shame, worry and so, so much fear on his expression, and the eldest feels a wave of protectiveness wash over him._

_Pressing his lips on a thin line, he pulls the blankets down and pats the spot next to him while he lets himself flop down onto the bed again. “Come here, brother.”_

_Loki's face lits up in a happy puppy kind of way and he all but jumps on the mattress, throwing his pillow onto the foot of the bed and getting settled by Thor's side. The blond chuckles as he coveres them both with the sheets and puts his arms around the child, who in turn curls up against him._

_“You can go back to sleep now,” Thor says as softly as he can._

_Loki buries his face onto his brother's chest and shakes his head. “No, the wolf will come,” is his muffled reply._

_Thor smiles and moves a hand to run his fingers through the youngest's curls in the way mother always does to calm them both down. “It may, but then I shall keep watch to protect you!”_

_Loki lifts his head to stare at him in surprise. “Truly?” Thor nods. “But what if it hurts you?” His eyes widen in panic. “What if it eats you? You will die!”_

_“I will not.”_

_“How do you know that?”_

_“Because I will only die if it kills me.”_

_Loki blinks. His brows knit together into a frown. “Yes, that's what I meant with ‘you will die.’”_

_Thor grins and raises his chin proudly. “But I will not allow that to happen. I do not intend to die, so I will not.”_

_The younger brother's eyebrows furrow further down his brow. “You can't choose that.”_

_“Yes I can, I'm doing it just now.”_

_“But–”_

_Thor cuts him off by tightening his embrace. “Shh, do not fret, Loki. Your big brother has everything under control.”_

_And finally, finally, Loki relaxes and stops contradicting his completely flawless logic. It isn't long before his breathing slows down, becoming steady and peaceful as Thor's hand keeps running through his hair._

_“Sleep well, little brother,” is the last thing Loki hears before sleep takes over him at last once again, the thunder outside lulling him like a familiar nursery rhyme.»_

And then he's back on the living room again, with a grumpy looking cat positioning herself on her previous spot beside him and the TV set on a radio station he doesn't remember changing to.

Loki sighs and closes his eyes, rubbing his face tiredly with both of his hands. 

What's wrong with him today? He normaly does think about Asgard on some punctual times, but his life is here at the moment, and he's happy with it ( _are you, though_ , his thoughts betray him). 

Yes, yes he _is_ , he convinces himself. He is happy. He's got a nice apartment, enough money to live without worries that he's earned from the several jobs he's had through the years, and four recently acquired master's degrees, so he'll probably get a new job soon. And he also has Rune, who isn't really nice but then again, he sometimes isn't either.

Today though, none of that seems to matter to him and Loki has no idea why. Maybe it's been too long and melancholy has finally taken its toll on him, or maybe he's just woken up sensible this morning, maybe it's Maybelline. Who knows.

Once again, the voices coming from the TV pull him away from his conflicted thoughts.

_“... So, Doctor Foster, any final words to our dear listeners?”_

A woman chuckles, and the sound of her getting closer to the mic can be heard. _“It's been a pleasure to be here today, and I hope that you guys also enjoyed and, hopefully, learned something new!”_

 _“Of course, we all did!”_ the host exclaims enthusiastically. _“At least I did learn a lot of stuff about astronomical anomalies and, how did you call it, Jane? Einstein-Roasted bridge?”_

Loki's attention perks up at this as Doctor Foster laughs, and he doesn't need to see her to know she's probably shaking her head in disbelief. _“Einsten-Rosen bridge, yes. Astronomical anomalies involving it is what I'm working on right now, and... Oh!”_ She gasps. _“I almost forgot! If any fellow scientist is interested, me and my colegue Erik Selvig are searching for an intern! There's more information on my website!”_

_“You hear it, young scientists! If you need college credits or just want some money in your pockets, here's your opportunity!”_

Just when the woman starts to chuckle, Loki stands up to turn off the TV and searches for his laptop.

What they were talking about, anomalies and the bridge... He's curious now. Finally something to keep him entertained, thank the Norns.

He sits back on the couch and opens google the second the laptop's wallpaper becomes visible on the screen.

Jane Foster, he puts on the the browser, and it doesn't take long for him to find the website she's talked about. He reads it thoroughly, one hand raising to rub his chin as his eyes travel down the digital page. True enough, her research of astronomical anomalies and the bridge are mentioned several times, and she and Doctor Erik Selvig are indeed in need for an intern and/or assistant. At the bottop of the homepage there's a phone number with the note ‘call if interested!’ on top.

Loki opens a new tab. 

Einstein-Rosen bridge. 

He knows he's heard that term somewhere upon his study of human science, but he just can't quite put his finger on it. Typing furiously Loki leans forward, getting closer to the monitor as he waits for the results of his search to appear on screen. He waits for three, four, five seconds, and then the first Wikipedia article pops out. He immediately clicks on it.

 _«A wormhole (or Einstein-Rosen bridge or Einstein-Rosen wormhole) is a speculative structure linking disparate points in spacetime and is based on a special solution of the Einstein field equations.»_ He raises an eyebrow. So this is what Foster is studying. Huh. An interesting topic, indeed. _«A wormhole can be visualized as a tunnel with two ends at separate points in spacetime (i.e., different locations, or different points in time, or both).»_

A tunnel. 

The prince scoffs. That's a very much simplified way of explaining what wormholes are, it is like daring to say the Bifrost is just a passage, or saying Iðunn's apples are mere fruits, or–

Loki's hands freeze just above the keyboard. 

“Oh Norns,” he mutters, lips slowly stretching out into an incredulous smile as realization hits him.

Doctor Jane Foster wishes to recreate the _Bifrost_.

A mortal trying to build her own intergalactical mode of transport with the little information humans have about the universe... This will be interesting— and, if it works, a probable way for him to come back home. 

_(“Please, don't skywalk,”_ Frigga says. She is kneeling in front of him, cupping his cheek with one of her soft, warm hands. Her eyes are pleading. _“The Jotnar are trained to detect the use of seiðr, they can smell it, and that ability of yours spends a lot of it. They could find you, Loki.”)_

He quickly comes back to the previous website, going straight to the contrasted phone number highlighted in yellow at the end of the article and he pulls his mobile phone out of his pocket. Loki flips open the device and dials the number with skilled fingers, unable to restrain the wide smirk that's stretching across his lips.

One beep. Two beeps. Three...

_“Hello?”_

“Doctor Foster? I'm Lukas Doe. I've heard you need an intern.”


	3. Coffee shop and space viking tavern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane has to make a decision, Erik is tired and a certain prince is feeling melancholic as his coronation approaches.
> 
> (WARNING: Some descriptions of violence)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started to write this story I didn't expect this many people would actually like it, and I just wanted to say thank you so much! I'm kind of an insecure person, and you guys really do boost up my confidence, so again, thank you! <3  
> Also I love to hear your opinions and thoughts in the comments, you are all so nice and idk, I just love reading you lol.
> 
> (Ok ok, I'll shut up now, let's continue with the story)

_CHAPTER THREE_

_Coffee shop and space viking tavern_

The sky is clear, cloudless, with the always bright Asgardian sun shining magnificently on the middle of it, bathing their armors and faces in an almost celestial-looking, faint golden glimmer. It's looks like nature has decided to be peaceful today, in contrast with what their enemies had chosen instead.

With another mighty swing of Mjolnir, he adds one more Jotun to the mental list of fallen foes, sending his attacker to crush roughly against the ground.

It is ironic, really, how the same sunlight that gleams beautifully on them makes the Jotnar's skin turn a purplish shade of blue, burning it as easily as one would slice a loaf of bread and making the lifeless bodies sweat so much that it seems as if they were melting. As he stares down at the pile of navy corpses at his feet, Thor can't help but grin. A full pack of Jotnar caught before they could bring any destruction. If this isn't the greatest accomplishment, he most certainly doesn't know what it is. 

Father will be so proud.

Groups of Frost Giants sneaking into Asgard have been a common occurrence since those beasts had declared them war more than six centuries ago, only three hundred and fifty years after they'd been defeated by the Æsir for the first time. Because they will win a second one, Thor is going to make sure of it once he ascends to the throne.

He swears to the Norns no Jotun will be spared of his fury.

Only eight weeks, oh, Thor cannot wait. In two months, he will be king. In two months, Jotunheim will wake up to the roars of the Asgardian warriors, a whole army leaded by him, ready to avenge their second prince.

Loki.

Thor's heart twists painfully at the reminder of the one who once was his playmate, his partner in mischief, his confidant, his little brother. They should be fighting side by side today, protecting their realm together like they used to daydream about when they were children: Thor as the king, the commander, and Loki as the advisor, working and scheming from the shadows in that Loki way of his that always worked out so well for both of them on their childish pranks. They should be working shoulder to shoulder like they had always been meant to, but the Jotnar had crushed those dreams in a horrible, irreversible way, and Thor swears they will pay for it.

He had been young, barely having reached prepubescence when the Frost Giants had attacked the palace on that nefarious night. A middle-aged lady that he recognized as one of his mother's handmaidens had woken him up, and before she could say anything, the panicked screams and battle cries made Thor notice that something was wrong. Then he had been lead to a secret room only the royal family had access to, and just as he was going to protest, the servant had locked them both inside. He had yelled at the top of his lungs, demanded her to let him get out and fight along his father and the other warriors, to go and protect his brother, but she had only tried to sush him and said that it had been a direct order from the king. And so, there had they stayed for what felt like centuries, leaning onto each other for warmth as the temperature grew lower and listening helplessly to the battlefield in which the palace had turned into. Eventually the noise from outside had subsided, and the unmistakeable steps of his father approached the room. Odin had spoken then, some kind of keyword which made the handmaiden open the door once it was uttered. 

Only taking one look at his father's face, he had known something was wrong.

Now several centuries have passed since that day, and even if no one dares to say it aloud when the royal family is around, rumour has begun to spread about the youngest Odinson's passing. 

Thor doesn't want to believe it. 

Because it's impossible. Unacceptable.

Yes, perhaps they haven't been able to get in touch with Loki for a while— _two centuries_ —, and yes, perhaps that is a little bit concerning, but it is not at all fatidic. If his brother had remained as smart as he was the last time Thor saw him (which the crown prince is pretty sure he has), then there's a high chance that he has survived.

What if Heimdall hasn't been able to see him in the last two hundred years? That doesn't mean anything, he may not see him, but he can see Midgard, and he has never spotted a single Frost Giant or any other possible threat for Loki's safety. And Thor is sure that no beast from that realm of mortals could ever bring harm to his brother, a true Asgardian warrior.

So, he knows Loki is fine. 

Really.

He knows.

... Don't be so disbelieved, he _does_.

And if his next punch is stronger, if it is given with much more fierceness and Mjolnir is crackling with enough electricity to power up a whole human city, making the world around him become covered by a blueish light as he strikes, it is most definetely not because he doesn't believe it anymore.

“Wow.”

He hadn't noticed that Sif had come to stand behind him. Thor doesn't turn around to face her, but he can feel her surprised stare as it practically bores holes on his back with its intensity.

Well, let her see his rage, then.

The Jotun he has just striken falls to the ground like a rag doll after being sent flying through the air, its body completely purple, literal _smoke_ coming out of it and a pool of its own melting flesh forming beneath it. 

It smells like boiling water.

Thor breathes heavily, the force and power used on his attack having left him fatigued. Trying to compose himself before a Frost Giant can take advantage of his inattention, his gaze inevitably falls to the creature laying several meters away from him, his eyes accidentally meeting its own ruby-red, now void of life ones. Its long white hair is covering half of its currently purple face.

He takes a step back with a grimace. It is indeed a horrible sight... And yet, his hand itches for more. 

He needs something to hit and release his distressed emotions. 

_Now_.

Thor looks around, tightening his grip on Mjolnir. There are no Jotnar near him, or in the distance, for that matter.

He shouts. 

Is it over already?! That's not possible, they were surrounded a moment ago! Where's the rest of them? Where are the other monsters hiding?!

“Woah, woah! Easy there, my friend! You're going to botch this beautiful morn!” Fandral's exclamation pulls him away from his thoughts, and with a confused frown he whirls around to stare at him.

“What?” 

The dashing warrior laughs. “Oh, Your Highness, what's gotten into that pretty mind of yours?” Then he chuckles again and points at the blue above them with an armor-clad finger. “Did this escape your attention, perhaps?”

Still feeling puzzled, Thor follows the direction of his friend's finger, glances up and his eyes promptly widen. Where before was a clear, cloudless sky now angry grey clouds have began to take over, an augury of a storm that will pour all over Asgard in probably a few minutes.

Thor blinks. “Oh.”

“ _Oh,_ indeed,” Volstagg barks in laughter, clapping the prince on the shoulder and bringing him into a sideway hug, trailing behind Sif, Fandral and Hogun as they walk towards their awaiting horses. “You truly ought to find some remedy to control that thunder, lad!”

With that, Thor laughs. He puts his arm around the redhead's shoulders and squeezes him in a friendly manner, a wide grin on his face. “I'm afraid that seems like an impossible task, my friend! I merely cannot control myself around the Jotnar!”

Volstagg squeezes back and shakes his head fondly. “That I understand, little prince, but Gods of Valhalla, you could at least try not to ruin a fine day such as this! Those beasts aren't worth it!”

“You might be right,” Thor muses when they break away from each other to mount their stallions. “You might be right.”

“Of course I am!”

“I do not pretend to know what you're talking about, but I sincerely disagree,” Fandral interjects with raised eyebrows and his best charming smile put on display.

Volstagg gasps in healf-hearted indignation. “Excuse me, I was giving some great advice to our Prince!”

The other warrior frowns in mock confusion. “You? _Advice?”_ He scoffs, throwing his head back to pull his hair away from his face because of his hands being occupied by holding the horse's reins. “Are you aware that you could end up in the dungeons for this callous jest, my friend?” Then ignoring Volstagg's spluttering, he turns his attention towards Thor and bows his head, once again in a mocking manner. “Please forgive him, Your Majesty. He intended no offense, but I'm afraid the only great thing this man could ever offer is his wife's roasted boar.”

“That is quite delicious, indeed,” Sif adds in what could've been easily mistaken by an innocent tone, if it weren't because of the smirk that spreads across her lips.

Together, they laugh until it makes their bellies hurt.

“We shall celebrate this grand victory!” Fandral exclaims after their laughter has finally died down. 

Thor nods and throws his fist on the air enthusiastically. “To the tavern!”

“To the tavern!” Sif and Volstagg roar back, imitating his gesture. Hogun doesn't say anything, but he does grin at their words and follows them to the city.

And just like that, Thor's heart feels more at ease. Because unlike popular belief, he is not a fool. 

Reckless? Yes. A brute? Sometimes, yes, you could say that. But foolish? Nope, not really. Therefore, he knows what his friends are doing: distracting him, trying to calm him down from his ire.

And he loves them for that.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

_What do I do now?_

The question had been repeating itself on her mind since last night, echoing through her brain like a bothersome melody that she just couldn't forget.

A middle-aged man with thining white hair and sunken eyes comes to her table after a little while, holding a small notebook and a blue pen on his hands and looking just as tired of the world as she is of this dilemma. “What can I get you, Miss?” he asks politely.

She smiles back at him as brightly as her troubled thoughts allow her and leans closer to the table, folding her hands on her lap. “Just regular coffee, please.”

The waiter nods and, after scribbling down her order, he departs to his previous place behind the bar. When she's alone again her eyes travel once more over the two files laying on the table, and she reads them for what seems like the hundreth time since she printed them. 

The one at her left has the photo of a smiling girl with dark brown hair, blue eyes and a pair of horn-rimmed black glasses on the corner, attached to the document by a metallic paper clip. Darcy Lewis, 22, student of political science at Culver University, almost on her way out of campus and in desperate need for college credits. While her field of expertise may be different from what she's looking for, her record makes it clear that Darcy is an efficient and energetic woman, and that means Miss Lewis could be a possible good addition to the team.

And then there's the other candidate. Lukas Doe, also 22. There's not much information on his file, no hometown, no former jobs or education centers, and just one line on the personal section where the orphanage he was raised in is mentioned. But the data given about his studies is quite impressive: master's degrees in astrophysics, biology, history and math, along with knowledge of several languages (including some ancient ones). The image of a young man with pale skin and short, slicked back black hair stares at her from the corner of the file and she can't help but shudder. Not because the boy is repulsive to look at because no, that is absolutely not the case here, but for the eeriness of his intense, unnaturaly emerald green eyes. She has never seen eyes like those in her very much experienced thirty years of life, and to say they creep her out would be an understatement.

Despite herself, she can't make up her mind to decide who would be the best option. 

Jane bites her lip and sighs through her nose. She wants them both, and neither at the same time. Why did Erik assign her the task of choosing their intern?

Leaning back on her chair, she rubs her eyes with tired hands and groans, because she knows that anyone would gladly smack her in the face for even doubting about picking someone with abundant studies on her field or a political science major, and she kinda agrees, in a sense. But there's something off about Doe and his almost blank personal record that makes her doubt. It is not a crime to not put much personal details into a job application, obviously, but still...

“Here you have, Miss.”

Jane definetely _does not_ jump at the sudden voice. She absolutely doesn't yelp or hit her head with the huge glass window behind her, either. 

The waiter offers her an apologetic look and she brushes his guilt off with a quite ashamed smile and a wave of her hand.

After paying for the cup of coffee she's been given he walks away, once again leaving her alone to deal with her internal quandry. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose.

It has become obvious that she's gonna be unable to decide today, in the time frame that her doubts seem to don't want to allow her to fulfill. So, she must come to a conclusion according to them.

Biting her lip and furrowing her eyebrows into a pleading expression even though he won't be able to see it, Jane flips her phone open and dials the number she knows by heart. After only three beeps, distant traffic noises are heard from the other side of the line. 

_“Hello, Jane.”_

“Hi! Hey, Erik, do you think we could get two interns?”

Silence. Two seconds, four... And then an exasperated groan. _“Can't you just choose one? I mean, we_ could _, but their salaries would have to be reduced in order for us to afford it.”_

Jane becomes silent for a minute. “I think it'll be worth it,” she finally responds in a quiet, almost afraid-of-being-chided tone of voice.

Erik sighs. _“Alright, then.”_

“Yes!”

_“... But you'll be the one who's gonna tell them about the money.”_


	4. Two interns and an awkward scientist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one about busy trains, annoying elderly ladies, Darcy's forgetfulness and ruined dates with hot guys met at Starbucks.
> 
> Oh, and also, of quite cliché meetings with not-so-common random dudes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is the first time I write from our beloved Darcy's pov, so I hope it is at least kind of accurate :')
> 
> Also, there's some swearing so, I guess I have to put a warning. There you go.

_CHAPTER FOUR_

_Two interns and an awkward scientist_

A simple ringtone is all it takes for chaos to break loose.

Once the metallic doors open, an overwhelming group of people start pushing each other in their path to the currently available exit, not caring about the poor souls they mindlessly hit or who they nearly asphyxiate in the process.

 _Humanity in all its splendour, there you go_ , he thinks with an annoyed eye roll. Maybe he's not being fair, perhaps he is aware that humans can be much worse than this and also have their brighter side, and it is possible that he knows he's just being dramatic for the sake of it. But as he works his way through the crowd and an old lady carrying a plastic bag full of pastries elbows him on the ribs, for the third time in twenty seconds? He really couldn't care less about the facts above.

If it weren't for the small, itty-bitty detail that murder would probably cost him his newly acquired job, he'd seriously consider it as an option. Instead, Loki contents himself with just magicking the chocolate chips off the cookies on the woman's bag and replacing them by dry raisins. The lady doesn't even notice the slight green shimmer that shines briefly within her bag.

Marvellous. Yes, that'll teach her a lesson.

From inside the pet carrier, Rune meows in what sounds like the cat equivalent of a pleased giggle. Loki looks down at her and raises an eyebrow. “What in the Nine are you laughing at? Did you like that little trick?” Rune rubs her muzzle against the cage's door and meows again. He smirks and brings his gaze back to the flock-like crowd, a single index finger traveling between the thin metal bars of the carrier's gate to boop her nose. “So _that's_ why I liked you. Right.”

And hadn't warming up to this ungrateful feline been a difficult task. A small beast that demands attention every five minutes, sheds its hair everywhere and doesn't know the definition of personal space until it suits its mood, a creature he didn't even ask for, to begin with. Because one day the cat had just appeared on his window's ledge, seeimingly having climbed up the fire stairs and deciding that watching him read was a pastime worthy of its time. They had been staring at each other for a long time, green eyes boring into a single golden one until the animal had decided to get inside the apartment like it belonged to, as Loki had discovered some time later thanks to some amused looking vets, her. 

They had not made a good start, that poor excuse of a lion always doing as she pleased, unapologetically throwing everything off his shelves and Loki locking her in his pocket dimension several times, both as a punishment for her bad behaviour and as a way to have a few minutes of his cherished silence. And things have not changed between them, actually, but they've grown fond of each other and Norns, doesn't he reproach himself for that. 

_Sentiment,_ Loki mentally scoffs. 

Getting attached to a mortal being has never brought any good for him in the long term. It is foolish, he should know better than that already. 

And yet there he is, carrying the very reason of his self-loathing to his new temporal residence because as much as he had tried to explain the turn of events to Rune, the puppy look in her eye (the one that only appears when he's scolding her, yes, _that one)_ had made him brush away the possibility of bidding their farewells and getting her to a nice pet shelter.

 _So much for your willpower, Odinson_.

At least persuading Doctor Foster into allowing him to bring Rune to Puente Antiguo had been a laughably easy task, really. It had only taken some sweet-talking during their brief phone conversation two days ago for the scientist to agree to his request, saying there was no problem at all as long as the cat didn't disrupt their investigation.

He couldn't truthfully guarantee that, but obviously, Loki didn't say that. God of Lies and all of that. Besides, he's a godly Viking alien prince, as someone had amusingly described him once, he can surely think of something to avoid any possible chaotic, furry incidents.

Easy-peasy.

Totally, he has complete control over the situation.

One hundred percent.

... Would it be too noticeable if she ‘mysteriously disappeared’ (with absolutely no magic implied) for a bit?

With an exasperated groan and narrowed eyes he looks down again to glare at the cat. “Do you see the trouble you make me go through?” Rune blinks. Loki sighs. “You dull creature; of course you don't.”

And then after suffering another blow to his side from the elderly woman that doesn't hurt his body but his pride, and one final not so gentle push of the people behind him, he finally manages to step out of that blasted train and starts walking through the station's busy halls.

There are no more asphyxiating incidents on his way out, which is great, but as soon as he sets foot outside the air-conditioned building, a wave of scorching heat greets him as warmly as a fire demon's punch to the face. Loki immediately falters, and it takes him several seconds to get a hold of himself. 

Maybe he shouldn't have brought the scarf.

Tugging at the cloth around his neck to loosen it, with Rune's carrier in one hand and a travel backpack hanging lightly from his shoulders, Loki makes his way towards the meeting point Jane had informed him about, a small coffee shop a few blocks away from the station itself. 

Despite his discomfort about the high temperatures The Weather Network's website had failed to inform him about, he smirks at the new adventure he's getting himself into.

This will be _fun_.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

_This_ is absolutely _not_ funny.

Holding her purse so it doesn't swing and hit someone while she runs, a string of cursing that would make her mother send her directly to the nearest church replays itself on her mind.

Darcy is late. 

«Nothing new here», every single one of her friends would undoubtedly say. And she would normally give them a half awkward, half shit-eating grin and kindly tell them to shut the fuck up, but right now she's really busy blaming herself for being so careless so there's no time to be snarky.

Because only Darcy _fricking_ Lewis is scatterbrained enough to completely forget about her meeting with her new boss, go out on a date with a hot guy she met at Starbucks and then remember the first appointment when the cheesy romcom they were going to use as an excuse to, er, _get to know each other_ , was about to start.

It is humiliating. How could she have forgotten about the very reason why she was on New Mexico?! 

_Well, at least I look presentable_ , she thinks with a smile spreading across her pink-gloss-covered lips. Because yes, she had gotten herself all dressed up for the date and the high-waisted pants and white shirt look kinda professional, so yeah, maybe that will make up for the fact that she had nearly completely forgotten about their meeting. And if it doesn't... Well, Doctor Selvig had been a professor at Culver University, so her being a student there will probably give her a few affection points. 

And were both of those options to not be enough, Darcy has a record of being pretty persuasive when she wants to. If she plays her cards right, she can make her boss lady feel sympathetic and forgive her mishap.

With all these ruminations forming in her head, she finally sees the cafe Doctor Foster had told her about on her email at the end of the street. Darcy grins and picks up her pace. She's almost there, only a few feet away from the door, and a look at her watch tells her that she's not gonna be late—

—and suddenly she's bumping against a rock-solid surface that doesn't feel right because there wasn't a fricking _wall_ there the last time she checked.

Weird.

Darcy yelps as her glasses slide halfway off her face from the impact.

“I apologize,” the wall says with a very British, very silky voice. 

Huh. Even weirder.

... _Wait_.

Wait a damned second.

Frowning in confusion, Darcy steps back, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and squeaks when she looks upwards and sees a pale, dark haired young man who seems to have been straight up taken out of Twilight staring right back at her with the most piercing gaze she has ever seen.

Okay, that's not a wall. Should that be comforting or embarrassing? Darcy's cheeks decide it's both and blush ashamedly on their own accord.

“No no no, it's totally fine! I'm the one who was distracted, sorry. Just feeling nervous and afraid to be fired on my first day, y'know? Oh, and would you look at that, now I'm rambling! Sorry about that too,” she says with and awkward smile.

The stranger raises an eyebrow at her. Then he smirks amusedly and shakes his head. “Don't worry. Even though if you don't want to be fired, I'd advise you to get going and not make your boss wait.”

Darcy claps her hands. “Yup, yeah, sounds like a good plan!” She moves to open the door, but stops when the guy's hand also reaches for the doorknob. Darcy takes a step backwards, and with a confused expression, he does the same.

“Are you also going in?”

Darcy nods. “Yes. You too?”

“Yes,” he replies. He then opens the door and jerks his head towards the inside of the coffee shop. “Ladies first.”

She snorts and walks into the cafe with a quick ‘thank you’ to the nice stranger. After a quick glance around the place, she is relieved to find it is empty. _Good_ , she thinks. At least Doctor Foster will not need to be told about her little misadventure. She's not sure of how she could've explained the hot Starbucks guy incident to her.

Darcy sighs and makes her way towards the table in front of the window, where her boss lady had asked her to meet at. She takes a sit on one of the wooden chairs and closes her eyes.

The clearing of a throat makes her snap them open again.

The free-time vampire is staring at her. “I'm sorry, but I've arranged a meeting with someone here. With Doctor Jane Foster. It's important.”

“Tough luck, buddy, so do I,” Darcy scoffs. Then realization hits her, and showing off her best smile, she clears her throat and leans forward. “Darcy Lewis,” she says in what, she hopes, is a professional tone while extending her hand. “Nice to meet you! Are you Doctor Selvig?”

The young man blinks. Then after what seems like a second of doubt that he spends staring at her hand, he takes it and gives it a polite shake. “I'm afraid I am not. Lukas Doe. It's... nice meeting you, as well.”

Oh god, he looks so awkward. 

... He _must_ be one of the scientists she's gonna work with.

But wait a second. If he isn't Selvig, why is he here? Now that he thinks about it, he looks too young to be a former university professor.

Darcy's brows furrow in confusion, earning her a raised eyebrow on his part. “Are you another one of my new scientific buddies? I thought it was only Doctor Foster and her collegue who I was gonna work with.” 

Then a frown appears on Lukas's face, too. “I was going to ask you the same,” he confesses as he takes a sit on the chair in front of her, leaving the pet carrier and his backpack on the floor by his feet. “I believe there's a misunderstanding, Miss Lewis. I am the new intern.”

Okaay, now this has to be a joke. Is there a hidden camera around here, somewhere?

Darcy leans back to fully analyse him, and she can feel Doe doing the same. “That can't be right,” she says and glances up again, her blue eyes boring into his green ones as she feels herself becoming defensive. _“I am_ the new intern,” Darcy says, pointing a finger to her face and wiggling it to further emphasize her point.

Lukas's eyes widen only a fraction before he narrows them at her and opens his mouth to argue. “That is not–”

“Sorry, I'm late!”

The two of them whip their heads around. A woman dressed with a simple green flannel shirt and a pair of jeans that still somehow manages to look remarkably pretty is approaching them, holding a black folder against her chest and smiling at them both.

“Just heavy traffic, you know. Erik is parking the car,” she continues with an apologetic look on her face. Then she sits on the chair between Darcy and Lukas, at the head of the table, and puts the folder on her lap. “Again, I'm sorry. I see you've already met each other?”

The two alleged interns share a look for a few seconds and then stare back at the newcomer.

Lukas is the first to react. “Indeed we have,” he confirms with a slow nod. “You are Doctor Foster, then, I assume?”

Jane chuckles awkwardly— and really, Darcy couldn't relate more. 

The oldest scientist smiles. “Yes, that's me. You can just call me Jane though, if you'd like.”

“Alright, Jane,” the political science student says and Foster's brown eyes snap towards her. “I don't wanna sound rude or anything, but why are we both here?” Darcy asks, shaking her index finger between Lukas and herself. “I don't know about him, but I only agreed to work with you and Doctor Selvig.”

“No one told me about another intern, either,” Doe helpfully supplies.

Jane's expression falters and damn, that doesn't look good.

“Yes, I know. That's why I wanted to talk to you two before making you sign any contract. There has been... a little change of plan.”

_Oh boy._


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's take a look into the past, shall we? Back when there were no jobs, technology or spoiled cats in Loki's life, and the prince's only worry was to get a hold of some sustenance to make it through the day.
> 
> Let's take a look at a small village of England, 650 years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I though about making an interlude every 5 chapters to look at what Loki's being up to for the last 650 years :)
> 
> I'm not really sure about how this one turned out, and I'll try to make longer chapters in the future, but my friend threatened me with squeezing my kneecaps if I didn't stop overthinking and complaining already. 
> 
> I know she's serious and I certainly value the safety of my kneecaps, so. Enjoy!
> 
> (Pd: pls remind me that I have to get her away from pinterest and old tumblr posts)

_CHAPTER FIVE_

_Interlude_

_Midgardian year 1361, England, Earth. Exact location unknown_

The clouds have dissipated today. The skies are clear, a stark contrast to the stormy weather they've had as of late. The birds look like they enjoy the change as well, and they proudly show off their best melodies for anyone willing to listen, even if they don't let themselves be seen and stay hidden behind the leafy hideout that the trees provide them.

What a nice afternoon.

_“Thief!”_

A small object is thrown in his direction, flying over his shoulder and barely missing his head, the swooshing of the artifact cutting through the wind sounding dangerously too close to his ear for comfort. He gasps in surprise.

A nice afternoon, indeed.

His heart pounds like a hammer against his chest, adrenaline and an undeniable fear of what would happen if he got caught forcing his legs to pick up the pace. 

“Come back here, you weasel!” the angry man yells again. His voice sounds a bit further away now. 

That's good.

Another object is thrown at him, and this time he manages to see what it is when it lands a few inches ahead of him: a rock, small, jagged and a little bit disturbing because yes, he may have stolen and that's very wrong and blah blah blah, but a _rock?_ Seriously?

That's _not_ good. And very much troublesome, actually; it might not hurt badly if it hit him, but it'd surely not be a pleasant experience and he really doesn't want to test it. 

So he keeps running.

The few people who are still coursing through the streets by this time in the evening turn to stare at the scene, some of them in surprise, some others with a clear air of indifference in their gaze even as the poor salesman swears and screams for their help. None of them decide to provide their assistance, though. It'd be kind of sad, if it wasn't so incredibly convenient for him.

Another shout from his chaser, from which he cannot discern any clear words, leads him to accelerate his strides ever more. Because big surprise here, he, in fact, has no intention of coming back like the man has so ‘politely’ requested him to do. 

What a shocker. 

That's a mistake he made a few days ago, when the fine art of theft was still new to him, and he doesn't want to repeat the outcome— the angry red bruise on his back throbs sharply at the reminder, making him wince. 

It's true there's a chance that his current victim would not be as violent in his punishing methods as the butcher was; he hadn't even seen the meatman undo his belt before it was lashing at him with enough force that the mark was still imprinted on his flesh now, almost a week later. But he quickly brushes away that option, because given by the worrying stone-throwing incident, this seller may be even worse.

And so, after turning around a corner (barely ducking another rock thrown at him) and making sure that no one's there to watch, he flicks his wrist and lets the glowing green shimmer of his seiðr envelop him, effectively casting an invisibility spell over himself. 

In any other occasion he might've cheered and laughed happily at this great achievement, rushing to his mother to inform her and going to brag about it to his brother, who would've undoubtedly given him a proud clap on the back even though he wouldn't truly understand the struggle that learning that spell had been. But as it is, he merely comes to a stop and turns around to see the man turn around the corner as well, who's not full praise and smiles but red-faced and panting instead.

The merchant slows his pace now, seething, looking from side to side such rage that the young sorcerer thinks he can see smoke coming out of his ears. “Where are you hiding, squirt?!” 

Clasping his hands behind his back, the thief walks back to the entrance of the street, carefully skirting the enraged man and definetely _not_ sticking out his tongue at him as he passes by. He crouches down to grab the stone that had been previously thrown at him and proceeds to throw it on the direction he had taken earlier, when he was running away from the market.

The man whirls around and grins an ugly smile that almost makes him shudder. “There you are!” And then he takes off running, following the path he just came from some seconds ago, rushing past the very child that he's searching for without being aware of his temporarily concealed presence.

A smirk spreads across invisible lips.

One point for Loki, zero for crazy angry Midgardian.

_Ha._

Once the merchant's steps disappear into the distance, fast and thunderous, the spell hiding him from sight dissolves with another flash of greenish light, and Loki decides it'll be best if he makes his way back to the refuge quickly. Better not to risk the returning of the human.

So taking a deep breath, the princeling continues his hasty rush towards the outskirts of the village, not slowing down when the forest comes into view, nor when he accidentally bumps his arm against a low branch while racing off into the brush. It isn't until he arrives to a certain glade, until he catches sight of a small cave almost completely hidden by moss and climbing plants, familiar on its wildish beauty, that Loki finally relaxes enough to listen to the ache on his feet.

“Did you see that, Heimdall?” Loki asks, still gasping for air and trying to catch his breath as he enters the cavern, laying his back against one of its cool rocky walls and sliding down until he's sitting on the ground, only a feet away from the cave's mouth. He stares at the sky, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk. “Could you please tell Thor that trickery actually helped me get something useful? If you could add a ‘told you so’ and call him oaf, I'd greatly appreciate it.”

As usual, there's no response. But it doesn't matter— Loki knows that the Gatekeeper is not a man of many words, he has known from the moment he went to visit him for the first time one day, after his lessons, to ask him about the Bifrost's mechanics. Because really, from the way his teacher put it, some may think that it works by magic. 

Heimdall had not answered back then, nor the first few times after that, telling Loki that the Queen was looking for him as a way of getting rid of his incesant questions. 

Let's just say, that didn't stop him from coming back. He's Thor's brother and Odin's son, after all. Stubbornness runs in the family, as mother always says.

It hadn't been until several weeks later, after the prince's daily visits, that the guardian had finally given up and started answering reluctantly.

Loki smiles at the memory. He remembers just how happy and delighted he had felt once he had received answers to his questions, which were usually waved off as irrelevant or off topic by his tutors. And so he had decided to make a list with all the doubts he had about the universe and all the other realms to ask later and relive that feeling, to Heimdall's utter dismay.

But he's no fool; he saw the brief smile on Heimdall's face each time he entered the Observatory, and heard the suppressed pleased tone hidden in his voice as he answered.

Loki grins. “You love to share your knowledge just as much as I like to hear it, don't you, Gatekeeper?”

Again, no answer is given. There's no need for it anyway, he's sure Heimdall adores him. Totally.

But enough of silly memories, now it's not the time for those. 

With a sigh, Loki looks down at the small bundle in his hand and unwraps the cloth that's covering it, revealing the precious bread bun underneath. He sniffs its delicious scent and his mouth waters only for a second before he starts _devouring_ it.

It has a bland flavour, but the crust is crunchy and the crumb is soft and still warm, so it's fine. It's not nearly as tasty or good as the ones made by the palace's kitchens, and its smell doesn't bring back memories or makes him want to hide it so Thor won't eat it first. But it's fine. He's not a baby, this doesn't mean anything.

While he's at it, his gaze travels once again to the already darkening sky outside, and he abstenmindedly reaches into his pocket dimension for his beloved quilt. It is a thick woollen blanket, plaid with green and grey patches that Frigga had sewn together a few decades ago for his birthday. He drapes himself in it and sighs again.

The stars here are different, he has noted. 

They are closer together, forming a higher number of constellations that, from the information told in the books his mother has given him, are named with quite weird names. From ploughs to belts, the nomenclature is certainly something... curious, to say the least.

People here are weird. And no, not only because of their strange naming traditions.

They come and go every now and then, racing through the day in a constant hurry from home to work, from work to the so-called church and so on and on. However, their daily rushing stops abruptly once the sun goes down, when they all retreat to their humble, half-timbered-walled houses for the rest of the night.

It makes sense, actually, if one thinks about it. Humans live negligibly short lifes, so it is only fair if they want to make the most of what they have and rest as much as they can so they have lots of energy to repeat the cycle in the morning.

That's the reasoning Loki thinks is behind their actions, anyway.

The sky is now completely dark, decorated by dozens of constellations he's completely unfamiliar with. Loki used to love looking at the night sky back home, either on his own or in company of his brother. Now that he can't ask him about the names of the stars though, he doesn't enjoy it nearly as much.

The wind blows harsher and while Loki scoots further into the protection of the cave, snuggling under the quilt, a small grin spreads across his lips.

It had been a big surprise to find out about Thor's little hobby, and a quite pleasant one as well. Loki had learned about his brother's interest for the stars by accident, one night that he had decided to sneak out of his room and go to read outside, on the balcony of the highest tower of the palace because really, seeing the fields and trees that surrounded the capital from there made a feeling of peace settle within his gut. And there had he found Thor, sitting cross-legged on the marble floor, shivering from the cold but apparently not caring about it in the least as he stared up at the sky.

 _That mindless fool,_ Loki remembers he had thought before proceeding to walk towards his brother quietly and sitting down next to him, imitating his position on the floor and setting the book on his lap, his interest in it long forgotten as he stared at his brother.

Thor was so absorbed by the constellations above him that he still hadn't noticed his presence, and he didn't do so until Loki draped them both with the quilt he had brought with him, the one he's curled in at the moment.

_«What are you doing here this late?»_

_«I was about to ask you the same, you careless oaf.»_

Thor had frowned. 

_«I'm not careless!»_

Loki rolls his eyes now, just like he had done back then. 

_«How many times shall I remind you to bring a cloak before it sinks into that thick skull of yours, then?»_

And not a second after those words had left his lips, the fool had laughed and pulled him closer into a side hug, putting an arm around his shoulders under the blanket and looking at him smugly.

_«Is that concern that I'm hearing, brother?»_

_«No, just a reminder of your idiocy»._

It had been Thor's turn to roll his eyes then. He had still grinned, though. 

_«Well, whatever it is, it's not necessary. I was perfectly fine»._

_«You were shivering»_ Loki had deadpanned.

Their argument had dragged on for several minutes, and then they had settled into a confortable silence until both of them were reduced to a pair of yawning messes. Loki vaguely recalls being carried in a piggyback ride to his chambers, and the feel of something soft and fuzzy against his cheek that smelled like a suspiciously familiar mix of copper and pine.

His eyes start stinging, and suddenly his thoughts aren't funny anymore. 

“Could you ask them how long will this last?” Loki whispers to the skies, as always hoping that Heimdall is still listening— never mind the fact that he doesn't know if the Gatekeeper was paying attention to him previously, to begin with. 

Let's not think about that too thoroughly, shall we? For his sake, if nothing else.

He lifts a hand and wipes the wetness off his cheeks with the back of his sleeve, his definetely-not-moist-eyes still fixed onto the stars above. Too tired to stand up, Loki crawls deep into the cave and settles down on the corner that's the furthest from the entrance, with his back to the wall, facing the forest.

As always, he works his seiðr into an illusion to make the place appear empty and closes his eyes. It is already time for him to go to sleep, if he plans on being able to wake up early to hunt some breakfast in the morning.

That night, Loki dreams of hiding under large feast tables full of tasty food, and listening to ancient stories told by old warriors; of his father's booming laughter, his mother's magic sneaking dessert for them under the tablecloth and Thor's always ready hands grabbing his ration with poorly stiffled giggles.

It is a nice dream.


	6. Skater boys and ballet dancers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While attempts at conversation happen on Midgard, the Queen of Asgard worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to write something over two thousand words long, would you look at that, maybe pigs can fly after all!
> 
> Also, when I was a kid I loved Avril Lavigne's songs and I just had to pass that onto Loki. Sorry not sorry bc I already have an undoubtedly cheesy idea that this fact will entail that you'll probably like :)))) 
> 
> Pd: I think I should put a warning for more or less descriptive mentions of severe injuries.

_CHAPTER FIVE_

_Skater boys and ballet dancers_

Humans are more unpredictable than a bilgesnipe in heat.

That's it, thank you for coming to his TEDTalk.

Loki sighs through his nose, watching as the buildings rapidly come and go through the car's window. On his lap, within the pet carrier, Rune looks at him intensely, as if asking where the hell are they going and why isn't he feeding her right on this instant. Not being able to offer an answer without appearing to be mad to the other people in the vehicle, Loki decides to ignore her stare and gaze elsewhere.

It's not as if he's upset about having to share his payment with another intern, no, money is not the problem. He's got his savings. What he doesn't have, however, is the patience to deal with the ever-changing opinions of the mortals.

One day they want one thing, and the next they want two of them. They change their minds as quickly as a cat's mood changes, and given by the several scratches that would've left marks on his skin if he were human, which Rune had gifted him with after she decided to choose violence, that is saying a lot. What will be next? Is Doctor Foster suddenly going to give up science to become a, er, _exotic dancer_ or something?

Loki huffs under his breath. His fingers tap absentmindedly against the carrier's plastic roof, following the steady rhythm of the song that's playing on the radio. He decides to concentrate in that.

A lady whose name he doesn't know is singing quite enthusiastically about the story of a ballet dancer and a boy who loves to skate, and how apparently, the singer herself is now romantically involved with said young man, forming an old classy love triangle between them. It is definetely not worse than some other Midgardian music that he's heard thorough the years, and he'd go as far as to say (not aloud, obviously) that it is actually not bad... As well as being a great way to escape the awkward tension around him.

And that would bring him back to the crux of the problem: Miss Lewis.

Again, it's not like he hates her, the poor girl hasn't done anything to earn his hatred... yet. But Loki has met people like her before, people who are driven by curiosity and look at everything with eager eyes (because how many questions had she asked Doctor Foster before she had fallen silent, finally satisfied? He had stopped counting at twelve). 

Those individuals, Loki has come to learn, are the most dangerous, the ones that end up hurting the most.They ask about his thoughts, try to crawl their way into his life and, mournfully, usually accomplish that challenge because really, people with similar mentalities tend to be drawn to each other.

And that never ends well. Letting someone in never does. He _would_ have to leave them eventually, before him not aging became suspicious, as always, and it _would_ hurt. And Loki certainly doesn't need this right now. So no, he and Miss Lewis aren't going to be more than co-workers, that much he has decided already. They are not going to be friends.

Speak of the devil and it shall appear. Beside him on the other backseat, concretely. Because the Norns just had to take that as a personal challenge, didn't they?

Darcy snorts, her stare almost burning holes on his hand, but she remains silent. It would intrigue him if he wasn't so absolutely annoyed right now. 

_Ignore her_ , he tells himself viciously. _Do not start a conversation with her. Do. Not. Do. It_.

But she snorts again, and Loki turns his head to give her a blank look. “What?” _Idiot_.

Her blue eyes travel up to meet his green ones, a smug grin spreading across her lips. One eyebrow raises amusedly. “Enjoying the music?”

“Why,” he drawls flatly, “Is there something wrong with it?”

Miss Lewis shakes her head and this time, she laughs. If it is at him or at something else, Loki doesn't know, but he feels a wave of defensiveness wash over him anyway. 

Not even an hour of knowing each other, and she's already found something about him to laugh at? Impressive

“No, nothing. Just... You didn't strike me as the Avril Lavigne type of guy, y'know. Cool aesthetic though, not gonna lie,” she adds, tilting her head to the side and lifting her eyebrows with what is probably supposed to be a thoughtful expression, but comes out as a weird pout (Loki cannot find another suitable word to describe it). “Got lots of friends who also like her– for different, pretty much questionable reasons, but hey!” she exclaims, her grin widening considerably as she spreads her arms, “It's still something!”

The Asgardian blinks. 

Huh. _So that must be the singer's name,_ he muses internally, the rest of her chatter not having been of interest to him. _Good to know._

Externally, Loki merely raises an eyebrow at the talkative mortal, still not entirely sure about if he's being mocked or not and makes a noncommittal sound. “I see.” Then he shifts to stare out if the window once again. 

But apparently, Miss Lewis isn't finished. She starts bouncing on her seat, not unlike an over-excited puppy, and turns to look at the scientists on the front seats. 

She has choosen another victim.

 _Good_ , he thinks, relieved. _At least she's not talking to me directly anymore._

“So Erik,” the female intern says. The man sitting on the driver's seat glances at her briefly through the rearview mirror before returning to the road. “You were also at Culver for some time, right?”

Loki frowns. 

Doctor Selvig nods. “Yes, I worked there for quite some time,” he answers. “Have you graduated yet?”

“Almost,” Darcy replies cheerily. “Just need some extra credits.”

Jane turns around to look at the younger people in the car, and sensing Loki's confusion, she huffs a chuckle and grins. “They mean Culver University. I studied there too.”

He glances at her. “Ah,” he mouths, understanding colouring his features now as he nods and smiles gratefully at her, even though he was starting to deduce as much from their conversation.

“What about you, Doe?” Darcy asks him now. _Oh Norns_. “Where did you study? Yale? Harvard? You look like a Harvard guy.”

Loki shakes his head. He may not like her, but his mother didn't raise him to be rude. “Not quite, I'm afraid your impression of me is clearly wrong, Miss Lewis. California.”

The young woman frowns and looks at him up and down. “Really? Public school? But you're all suited up!”

He clucks his tongue, an eyebrow raising up in disbelief. Frigga Allmother didn't raise him to be unnecessarily polite, either. “So you think me rich only because I have style?”

Darcy shrugs, smiling once again. “I dunno, man. You just kinda give me Draco Malfoy vibes, with the slicked back hair and everything.”

Now the tips of Loki's lips quirk up into a smirk, his eyebrow still lifted high even as the alarms start sounding loudly in his head. 

_Don't talk to her!_

“Really? Black hair, green eyes, and the first character you thought about was Malfoy?” he asks. _You absolute moron_ , he reproaches himself at the same time.

She crosses her arms and snorts. “You lack the messy and the glasses to be Harry.” She grins. _“And_ the lightening bolt.”

Oh, the irony. Loki doesn't know whether to laugh or cry at this point.

Instead he nods and shrugs one shoulder. “Fair enough.” And then he lets his eyes travel to the window for the third time, finally listening to his own warnings and deciding to not repeat whatever this conversation had been.

Once again, silence takes over the car. But it doesn't last long this time: Doctor Foster, who's still turned on the passenger seat to look at the interns, smiles and settles her gaze on the girl sitting right behind of her.

“So Darcy, you mentioned on the form that your family's the one who told you about this?”

Immediately, the younger woman's eyes light up and she nods jerkily. “Yeah! My dad heard your interview on the radio and mom threatened to make her horrible chicken soup ('cause she's a terrible cook, I'm telling ya) if I didn't apply for the–” her eyes widen. “Oh shit that sounds bad. Good way to go, Darcy. What I mean– It's not like I don't want the job! Please don't fire me,” she adds with a small voice.

Jane laughs. “It's okay, don't worry, I get it. Moms are just like that some times.”

Miss Lewis sighs in relief. The grin makes its way back onto her mouth, and she nods again. “Yup, they are. But she was so happy when I told her I got accepted, she even bought me some cheesecake!” she exclaims, her smile becoming brighter (if that's even possible).

“Oh, that's nice,” Jane says sincerely. “I take it that you like it?”

“Are you kidding? I'd marry that magnificent piece of culinary art if I could.”

Doctor Selvig hums, vaguely amused by this messy display. “And you, Lukas? How did you parents celebrate?”

Ouch. Loki forces himself not to wince.

That's a good question, isn't it? How would Odin and Frigga, the Allfather and Allmother, rulers of the Realm Eternal react to this, to their son having a job as an intern for some mortals? He knows of the prejudices that most Æsir hold against them, but how would his family feel? Proud, because he's been able to adapt to his situation or disappointed?

Well, Thor would obviously laugh (at least a little bit), but his parents are the ones that make him doubt about their response.

 _“Erik,”_ Doctor Foster hisses through gritted teeth.

Why is she...?

Oh. _Right, fake backstory,_ he remembers. Clenching his jaw, Loki clears his throat to get rid of the lump that has formed there on its own accord and swallows thickly when that doesn't work. 

“I'm an orphan.”

Just as he had previously done with Darcy, Doctor Selvig's eyes meet his through the mirror. This time they have fractionally widened, with an apologetic glint on them that looks too much like pity for Loki's liking. “Oh. I... I'm sorry, I didn't remember...”

He sounds regretful. Miss Lewis's stare looks pitying. Jane is silently fuming at her collegue. 

Loki thinks he's going to be sick. 

This is just wrong. He's a Prince, a goddamm _God,_ they should not pity him. He has his family, his people, his home ( _do you, though,_ that ever-doubtful side of him whispers). There's nothing to pity about him, if anything, he should pity _them_ for not knowing almost anything apart from their own realm, jeez!

And still, the atmosphere between them has come back to the same awkwardly tense one that had enveloped them on the beginning, and he can still feel both of the women's gazes on himself. One of them apologetic, the other curious and carrying a certain amount of pity.

“Sorry about that,” Jane starts. “He read your file a while ago, and sometimes Erik has the memory of a fish.”

“Dory _who?”_ Darcy mumbles with an awkward chuckle.

Loki raises an eyebrow and turns to look at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“Dory,” she repeats. “As in Finding Nemo's. Y'know, round, blue,” she glares briefly in Erik's direction, “forgetful. _That_ Dory.”

The Prince frowns. “So it is from an animated movie, then?”

“Yeah, of course it– Wait,” Darcy's eyes widen.“You haven't seen Finding Nemo?!”

He tilts his head. “Should I have?”

“Yes! It was, like, the best Disney movie a few years ago!”

“Oh. I'm afraid I haven't watched many of those, animation films are not really my thing.”

“WHAT?!” Miss Lewis screeches as if she had seen a ghost, staring at him in horror. “I– WOW. _Wow_. This– I can't deal with this.” Then she turns her head around and redirects her scandalized gaze at Jane. “Boss lady, this man is clearly a Death Eater or something, please get him away from me!”

Doctor Foster chuckles and shakes her head at the intern's antics before addressing Loki with an amused grin. “If you're not into Disney,”— _‘outrageous’,_ Darcy mutters— “What do you like to do in your free time, then?”

Oh well, that's an easy answer: magic, reading, training, polishing his daggers even though it's been years since he's last needed them, that kind of stuff. But obviously, he can't just say that. He doesn't want to say that.

So, noticing that the car has already (finally) stopped, Loki clears his throat and puts on his best smile. “The list is long, Doctor Foster. It'd take me some time to explain it all, and it looks like we're already here.”

Jane frowns and Loki takes a silent sharp breath, preparing himself to be questioned. She has obviously noticed his avoidance of the topic. But if Doctor Foster has taken offense at the way in which he has evaded her question, she doesn't comment on it. Instead, she puts on a smile (albeit a fake one), nods and turns around to unbuckle her seatbelt.

The oldest scientists get out of the car first. Doctor Selvig makes his way towards the small house in front of which he has parked, searching for what Loki assumes must be the keys in his pocket. Doctor Foster follows him with quick strides shortly after, leaving him and Miss Lewis alone in the car.

And there's the silence again. This time it stretches, neither of them having the urge to speak as they both stare at what will be their home for the following months through Loki's window.

Darcy sighs. “Let's go,” she mutters to herself. Then she glances at him, flashes a quick smile and gets out of the car as well.

Loki watches her approach the house for a few seconds, before the furry creature caged on top of his lap catches his attention. Rune's still staring at him with that big, golden eye of hers.

Just like the other intern had done, the Prince sighs and smiles down at the cat. “If this works I'm taking you with me back to Asgard,” he says, and he raises his eyebrows in a contemplative way. “The Bifrost may make you vomit all over the floor, _but_ everything's shiny and there's lots of food up there. You'll love it.”

Rune merely blinks at him in return.

Loki shakes his head and unbuckles his seatbelt before opening the door and exiting the car at last, locking it with a bit of seiðr and a flick of his wrist because Norns, humans are so forgetful it makes him want to stab them. 

He's not gonna do it, though. The stabbing.

Doctor Selvig is still looking for his keys.

... Well, at least not for now.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Destiny, as some are foolish enough to describe it, is simply a lie. 

To say that there are some things that are just _meant to be,_ to claim that you cannot possibly evade them no matter what you do is no more than absurd nonsense. 

Frigga knows this well.

Most of the myths the Midgardians made about them may not be truthful, but then again, legends are never created out of lies only. For example, humans used to say that she had a gift of prophecy, an ability to know about the future awaiting them. 

And a gift she has, but it is not so simple. She can see glimpses, small fragments without much context that more often than not, she has trouble trying to understand. Because that's an ability only the Norns can master.

In reality, destiny is no more than an intricate game of choices, where your fate changes with every turn you take without your notice. If you have to believe her in something, it must be in this.

For instance, when one night she dreamt about fire and ice, a half blue, half Æsir-pink arm and the echoing of several truly disturbing phrases _(“Why? Because I'm the monster parents tell their children about at night?” “He will make you long for something as sweet as pain” “He killed eighty people in two days”)_ , she'd had two options: one, trying to guess if what she had just seen meant what she thought it meant; and two, don't give it the benefit of the doubt and do something about it.

Obviously, Frigga did the latter. She had woken her husband up, explained everything to him and it wasn't long before they were both fully clothed and rushing towards their children's chambers because, besides King and Queen of Asgard, they were Thor and Loki's parents as well.

Then the screaming had started, and Frigga had known that she'd make the right choice.

Odin met a group of servants on his way to their eldest's room, and already forming a strategy on his mind, he'd sent one of the maidens to bring Thor to safety instead. 

Meanwhile Frigga had ran to Loki's room, just as they had agreed upon, and did just as they had previously said. She had brought him to the Bifrost and let Heimdall, who already knew of the plan of action because of his sight, take him to Midgard with only a promise that she wasn't sure she would be able to fulfill.

_(“I'll come and explain everything later, my love. Please stay safe.”)_

At the moment, that had seemed like the best fitting option. To keep Loki away from the threat until they managed to overcome it, to not risk what she feared would happen if the Jotnar found him.

Now, however, the Queen isn't so sure. Of course, she knows for a fact that her son is all right, but she still worries. 

The last time she was able to reach for Loki's energy signature was a couple of months ago, and he appeared to be healthy, if his seiðr was anything to go by. However, not being able to actually see him pains her greatly.

And the worst part? She cannot tell anyone about her her knowledge of Loki's state. Her husband is very insistent upon her need to rest, and there's no day in which Odin fails to remind her of her weakened state. 

As if she didn't know by now.

That day hadn't only been the end of their life living as a whole family, but also the one in which she had spent her last moments of health.

The Allmother still remembers it all vividly, from the minute Loki was sucked into the Bifrost's blinding lights to the second she'd had to turn around and see the Jotun war party rushing across the Rainbow Bridge towards them, and once again, she'd had to make a decision.

Frigga had exited the Observatory with solemn, long strides, ignoring Heimdall's question _(“What are you going to do, Your Majesty?”)_ and coming to a stop a few feet away from the entrance. 

The Jotnar were coming closer, and the Bifrost was still functioning. They could follow Loki if they managed to get into the Observatory.

Considering this, it had been easy for her to make the decision. 

With a quick warning to the Gatekeeper to stay back, Frigga had chanted the words to the spell she knew would work for sure, one complicated and dangerous enough that even before it was casted, made her seiðr burn through her veins as if it were magma.

But that didn't matter, because in the end it had worked: golden flames had erupted from within her, lashing out wildly in every direction, unforgiving and untamed; they had effectively enveloped the Jotnar and turned them into ashes, so she didn't care that she felt as if she were on fire.

... And she'd actually been. That spell was, and still is forbidden to teach to sorcerer's apprentices for a reason. It burns the caster from the inside out, using their own seiðr as a fuel, scorching flesh and internal organs alike with its heat. 

Most of the people who use it don't survive. Frigga had been lucky that Odin had already gotten the situation on the palace under control, so Heimdall had been able to rush her to the healing room as soon as she'd collapsed to the ground. Her whole body had been littered by severe burns, most of her hair had also been burnt, and her seiðr... Well, to this day, her seiðr is still not fully recovered.

So yes, if Odin were to know about her ‘straining herself’, he'd surely not be happy. And damn him, she hates to admit that he's right, she shouldn't do much in her state— but she cannot just sit and wonder if she'll ever see her youngest again, see the man he's become.

“Mother!”

With a sigh, Frigga turns away from the family portrait that has brought up all these memories and shifts to look at Thor, who has apparently just entered the chamber, coming towards her with quick steps.

She smiles warmly at him once he catches up with her. “Hello, my son.”

“Mother,” Thor replies with a grin of his own. “Will you not come to eat with us?”

Frigga frowns. She gazes towards the window and, to her surprise, she realizes that the current position of the sun indeed marks that it is midday already. Just _how much time_ has she spent looking at the painting, then? An hour, at least.

“... Yes,” the Queen finally responds while slowly tearing her gaze from the sky and settling it on her older son instead. “Of course, darling.”

Thor nods with a slightly concerned look in his eyes. “All right. Let's go,” and then he takes Frigga's hand gently, trying not to touch the red burn scars that still cover part of the skin there, before they both start walking together towards the dining hall.


End file.
